


Treachery of flesh and bone

by psychomachia



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Biting, Blood Kink, Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 02:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20538431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: Zelda will do anything for her brother.





	Treachery of flesh and bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).

They are born and they are one – there is never a time where Zelda does not know the beating of a second heart. She knows from the instant she sees him, for all true witches remember their birth, that she can never be parted from him.

She is grateful Edward came first. It would have been disastrous had she lived even a second without him. Instead, they sleep in the same bed, hands clasped together, their dreams bleeding together so that nightmares are shared. All are vanquished.

There is something special about him, something unholy, that makes her, even when she has just learned to walk. want to fall to her knees and worship.

“Zelda,” Edward says, on their sixth birthday, as they sit together on a wooden swing, basking in the glorious night. “I had a Calling.”

“Edward,” and she knows what he will say before his mouth opens. It is inevitable that he should lead them and that she will clear the path so nothing stands in his way. It is what they were both born to do.

Later, when he has gone to sleep, she falls to her knees, and does a grand obeisance to the Dark Lord. She offers him her faith, offers him her soul, offers him all he asks for in the world, if Edward could just become his chosen on Earth.

She repeats it as she lies next to him, lets his heart lull her to sleep. Should it ever stop beating, she thinks, she promises she'll find a way to bring it back.

The next morning, the well brings up nothing but blood. A most auspicious sign.

* * *

Edward's wearing his Head Boy uniform, looking cool and unruffled when she opens her eyes.

She tries to speak, and coughs out something black and bitter, a stream of inky darkness that pours out from her mouth.

Her brother gets behind her, holds her tight, as she spits it all out. She leans back on him, revels in his strength, before he hands her a tincture that's only slightly less noxious than what she just expelled.

“Fools,” she says, when she can talk again. “As if that would be enough.”

“It was fairly impressive.” Edward's voice comes from behind her, a steady, soothing rumble. It's been deep for quite some time, no awkward shift between boy and man. He has always been ready. “There were ten of them involved, and yet half of them seem to have gone irretrievably mad, while another three will never wake up. They're still looking for all the pieces of Eadie. I believe they're missing at least a spleen and an arm.”

“The last one?” Zelda says. “What about Counselman? Don't tell me that bitch got away. I know she's the one that planned it all.”

“Oh, no,” Edward says. “I believe she's been detained and is awaiting appropriate punishment.”

“Appropriate?” Zelda shifts so she's facing her brother. He's smiling. “Who decides that?”

“Well, I believe as it's a student matter, that certain members of the faculty agreed it could be left up to the Head Boy to mete out something fitting. And if he consults his relative, the one who was aggrieved by the matter...” He trails off and she laughs.

“I'll have to change,” Zelda says. “I want to rip out her entrails and feed them to her and I don't want to look anything less than perfect.”

“As if you could,” he says, his voice low, and doesn't turn his gaze when she takes off her shirt. 

* * *

She lets her mouth trace down his throat and bites down hard, drawing blood. Edward arches upwards, wraps his hands around her hair and pulls, golden strands falling to the bed. Zelda laps from his neck, swallows the blood down, coppery and rich. She wants to drink until it's all inside her, eat his flesh to the bone, then gnaw the bones to dust, until every single inch of him is hers.

“Zelda,” he says. “Oh my Zelda.” His cock pulses against her, and she guides it into her, sinks down upon him, taking him in fully. She wants it to hurt, to make her bleed. No one has been inside her before, though some have tried. None walked away.

“My priest,” she moans. “I've been waiting for so long for you.” His crown is on the nightstand, the staff cast to the floor, and she revels in the glorious sacrilege of it all. That all will love and obey him, but only one will be able to receive all of his blessings.

He is thrusting inside, and she scratches his arms, his chest, lets herself mark him. As High Priest, he should cast her aside, discipline her for such affront as to harm him. But he'll learn, she thinks fondly. He's still new to this and the whips haven't arrived from Italy yet.

“We're going to change it all,” Edward says. He's picking up speed, rougher and she grips both of his shoulders to hold on. “I have such plans.”

“Of course you do.” Zelda feels him come inside her, lets his seed fill her just as his blood did. She will always accept whatever he wants to give her, and always wish for it to be more.

But that's what prayers to the Dark Lord are for.

And she is one of his most devoted and faithful servants. 

* * *

There's a woman in Edward's bedroom, her fingers tracing along the books on the shelves. Zelda would be more angry about someone violating the sanctity of his quarters, but her brother is dead on the floor. She felt it miles away, Hilda having to support her sudden sagging weight as she dropped to the ground. She's always been irritated with Hilda's softness, her fondness for plants, her general... niceness that she's tried to scare, bewitch, and murder out of there, but in this instance, she was weakly grateful. Even if she would never admit it.

Zelda felt her brother's heart stopped and wondered why hers hadn't as well.

“I wouldn't,” the woman says to Zelda, as she fingers the dagger in her pocket. “Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment or value that your first response is murder. Admirable traits for the sister to a High Priest. Or his wife.” She shrugs. “We'll see how it goes.”

“How dare you!” Zelda hisses. “He was a valued servant of the Dark Lord. What are you, witch?”

“Not just a witch, darling.” The woman's voice is soft, mocking. “The first witch. The highest one.”

Zelda's nerveless fingers drop the dagger. “Lilith.” She wonders why she isn't dead already. Surely pulling a knife is cause for her to burst into flames on the spot.

“Don't worry,” Lilith says. “I don't want to kill you. Nor him, really. He just needed to learn a little lesson about mortal dalliances. It's all well and good to want to change things around.” She smiles, her lips twisting wryly. “I can't even say I disagree with some of his ideas, considering some of the worlds I've looked into.”

“He wasn't trying to commit heresy or treason.” Zelda finds herself growing defensive. “And it was just a fling. An infatuation he would have gotten over.”

“Maybe.” Lilith is getting closer to Zelda, her very presence raising goosebumps along Zelda's skin. “Maybe he would have grown out of it, cast her aside, and realized where his heart lay.” Her fingers reach up, trace Zelda's cheekbones, run down her neck, linger over her chest. “Or maybe he would have lost himself so far that you wouldn't have been able to bring him back. I've seen it.” It's a whisper now. “You always lose him.”

“I won't lose him.” Zelda tries to keep her voice steady, her chin up. “I'll always find him and bring him back.”

And Lilith is suddenly laughing, before she gives Zelda a quick, fierce kiss on her lips. “Oh, I'm so glad it's this world after all. It's so much more fun. And you are such a pretty pair.”

Zelda nods. “Then--”

She claps her hands. “I'll let you bring him back. I'll even help you. But in return, I need you to guide him. Show him what his witches need him to be.” Lilith looks to the side for a second, her gaze oddly soft and distant. “Don't let him fail them like--” She doesn't finish.

“Anything for him,” Zelda says. “I'll put him back on the right path. I won't fail.”

Lilith nods. Her eyes are cold and clear, like the last star in the night sky. “I know you won't. We both know that behind every lord and priest, there's a witch that needs to do the dirty work.”

Zelda picks up the dagger and prepares to get to work. 

* * *

There have always been two leading in the Church of Night. All newcomers learn this.

There is the High Priest, Edward. He runs the coven, runs the academy, smiles at you down the hall and gives wonderful speeches that make everyone swoon. He is charming, witty, and if he sometimes forgets things, like what day it is or why there's a new heap of viscera in the swimming pool, well, it's to be expected with so much on his mind.

Such a lovely man, the coven thinks. It's such a shame that they can't ever lie with him, considering he's given them the freedom to lie with whomever they want, witch or mortal. But really, that wedding was spectacular and gorgeous and bloody in all the right ways and if the High Priest has abstained himself from engaging with his coven, it is his right to do so.

What they don't say, at least not where they think she can hear it, is that no one wants to cross the High Priestess either. If Edward is the glove that gently strokes their cheek, promises them everything will be okay, Zelda is the one that grabs them by the throat and makes them go away.

Amity Derleth found this out the hard way. Tried to drug Edward Spellman, trap him with a love hex, but before she knew it, the rumors say, Hilda had whisked her brother off to his office to recover while Zelda... well, they say the first hour was just screaming but by the fifth, Amity couldn't even breathe enough to whimper. 

The Spellmans were magnanimous enough to provide free mortuary services, however, and by all accounts, Edward's quick eulogy was far better than the witch deserved.

That's what Zelda thinks, but Edward has always been too kind, too forgiving. It's what makes him such a magnificent High Priest. She'll find herself on her knees before him, worshiping and adoring him, knowing that he'll never leave her.

Lilith watches them sometimes, a shadow in the corner that smiles at them. Those times, Edward gets rougher, pushes Zelda down and leaves bruises that make her ache the next day. Zelda presses her fingers into them to make them last longer. She knows this is a favor from her Lord.

Sometimes, Lilith joins in and it's a blur then, of smoke and fire and a face twisting and contorting, biting at the two of them until they're all covered into blood. Those are special occasions, presents for things like anniversaries or birthdays or another young witch signing her name into the Book.

And when it's just Edward and Zelda? Now and forever, until time eats itself and the world dies in flame? It's just like when she use to lay her head on her brother's chest, listening to it beat.

It's being home.


End file.
